Most Precious of Treasures
by Exactlywhat
Summary: Many mechs heard the call and came. Many failed. This is the story of the one who didn't.
1. Prologue

A/N: So, I promised to write Prowl and Jazz's fairy tale story! And here it is! Sorry for the slight delay, the bunnies were being stubborn.

Anyways, without further ado, I give you Prowl and Jazz.

Well... a prologue to them. They'll be coming in soon enough. ^.^

* * *

Most Precious of Treasures

Prologue

It all started vorns ago, on the coast of the Great Rust Sea. A kingdom grew, and grew wealthy, for the sea provided for all its needs and more. The capital of the kingdom was the beautiful city of Iacon, known over the planet for its riches, its marketplace, the fine craftsmechs who lived there, and, most of all, its rulers. For Iacon was governed by the Primes, the noblest and wisest mechs of all, chosen by the Matrix to lead with all the knowledge and experience of their forebearers.

One orn, when the sun was just touching the horizon and the day was drawing to a close, a great shadow fell upon the kingdom.

It was a draken, flying down from the Manganese Mountains. Knowledge of the Great City had spread even to this creature. Its greed had prompted it to leave its cave, for a draken's love of dark spaces is only surmounted by its lust for treasure.

The creature's great wings covered the last light of the falling sun, its shadow darkening the city. The toughest, most hardened soldiers and guards shook in their plating, for this monster was unlike any they had seen before.

They knew the city was lost the moment its huge form had appeared on the horizon.

Knowing his city was doomed, the Prime gathered his weapons, said goodbye to his bondmate, and strode from his castle, then the city, and stood, facing the monster alone.

"Why do you come, little Prime?" the fissilingual beast hissed. "You are one mech, standing alone against _me_! You have no chance. Soon, you will be destroyed, and your city destroyed with you."

The Prime inclined his helm, regarding the monster with weary optics. "Indeed. But I am the Prime, the leader of this city and kingdom. If I do not stand for my people, who will?"

Slowly, the draken moved back, regarding the red and blue mech standing tall in front of him. "Hm. Brave. Brave, but foolish. It does not matter if you stand for them, with them, or behind them. You will all die."

Nodding, the Prime, vented. "Yes, I am aware. But I am the Prime. It is my duty, and my honor."

"Honor in being killed by a draken? Little Prime, you are sadly mistaken! There is no honor in this! I will squish you like a _bug_!"

"There is honor in standing for what you believe in, even if it means facing insurmountable odds," the Prime countered, hefting his sword and shield.

Laughing, the draken reared back. "Little Prime, you cannot hurt me! But your bravery, though foolish, has left me impressed. I will allow yourself and your kingdom to live, but only on one condition." The beast leaned closer, until his blunt nose and fang-filled maw were mere inches from the Prime. "I wish for treasure, for wealth. I get what I want. For your kingdom's continued existence, I demand a tax. Once a groon, you bring treasures to the docks. The first tax is in three orns. Have it there, or your city will burn."

With a mighty roar, the draken reared up on its hind legs and flared its wings. Then it was gone, flying over the city, then away. The Prime, relieved, fell to his knees as he watched the monster soar away.

Three orns later, the tax was on the docks, packaged and ready for the draken to take it away, supplied from the Prime's own savings. For close to two vorns, the Prime paid the tax.

But his credits were running out. He was growing poor, and had little left to give.

So the people of the city started paying. They loved their Prime, for he ruled fairly and wisely, and they had seen how much had been taken.

For vorns, the city continued on, scraping by. The Prime and his bondmate had a creation, a beautiful little mechling. When the Prime's creation grew to be of age, he worked among his people, helping to pay the tax every groon when the draken came back down from the mountains.

But ever so slowly, Iacon was drying up. There were only so many people willing to trade in a city ruled by a draken. There was only so much you could pull from the land around you before it ran out.

After vorns of successfully paying off the draken and buying their safety, Iacon was running out.

And so, the Prime put forth a call.

"People of Cybertron. Our city is plagued by a terrible burden. A draken holds us hostage, demanding wealth in exchange for our continued existence. But we are running out of time and money.

"I ask not for donations. That will only extend our imprisonment. No, I ask for a mech, brave, strong, and smart enough to take on this monster, to destroy him, to free us.

"I am willing to offer rewards. My creation is of bonding age, and is willing to tie himself to whoever succeeds. I can promise a life here, some of whatever wealth the draken has, and should the mech prove willing and competent, and should the Matrix choose him, I will name him my heir.

"We are desperate. I call to anyone who can offer us aid; we need your help."

Many mechs heard the call and came. Many failed.

This is the story of the one who didn't.


	2. Chapter 1: Arrival

Chapter 1: Arrival

His armor was dusty and worn, paint scratched and faded. His gait was slow, but it was even and practiced; an efficient step that would get the walker where he wanted to go quickly. Doorwings flared from his back, still and stiff. Amber-gold optics glowed faintly from under a brilliant red chevron.

A few optics tracked his progress down the street, but not many paid him attention. He was just another traveler, coming here to trade, perhaps, or maybe just passing through. Most people did that, nowadays, after all. Not very many wanted to stay in a town ruled by a draken.

Prowl, though, was not thinking of a draken, or of passing through. He was thinking of his younger brother, and the home he had promised to find, and wondering if he had maybe, finally, found somewhere.

It was while he was contemplating this when he bumped into the small, silver mech.

"Whoa, mech," the silver mech chuckled, lifting four-fingered, claw-tipped hands. "Sorry."

"No, it is I who should be sorry. I should watch where I am walking."

"Ah, a gentlemech on the streets down here? That ain't somethin' ya find every orn." The silver mech leaned to the side slightly, peering around Prowl, staring at his doorwings. "An' a Praxian t' boot. What're ya doin' here, mech?"

"I do believe that is none of your business."

"Hey, Ah was jus' askin'. No need t' get snappy."

Prowl vented heavily. "I am sorry. I have been moving for a long time, and I am exhausted."

"Mm, understand'ble. Ah'm sorry fer intrudin'. Mah creators say Ah'm too curious fer mah own good, an' they're usually right."

Shaking his helm, Prowl glanced around, golden optics skimming over the crowded streets. A few people shot them curious or amused glances, but no one paid them much mind. "I... Curiosity in itself is not bad. It is when you let it get away from you and control your actions when it becomes problematic."

The silver mech stared at the black and white for a long moment before chuckling quietly. "Ah like you," he stated, grinning widely.

"... Pardon me?" He... liked Prowl? After knowing him for less than a breem? It made no sense.

"Yeah. Ah like ya. Yer... funny wit'out tryin'. An' ya ain't tryin' t' impress meh. Ah... It's... nice."

"I... understand?"

The silver mech smiled. "Eh, ignore meh. Ah'm... Primus! Ah don' even know yer name! An' ya don' know mine. Sorry. Ah'm Jazz."

"I am Prowl."

"Nice t' mee'cha, mech."

Prowl dipped his doorwings and helm in a nod. "Likewise. However, I must find a place to stay for the night-"

"Mah place is open."

Jerking back in open surprise, Prowl's armor rattled. "I do not believe-"

"Oh, Primus, not like that! Eh heh... Ah'm sorry. Ah didn' mean it like that. Ah've got a spare room, an' Ah lend it t' whoever needs it. Ah... Ah 'pologise fer soundin' so forward."

After a second of regarding the silver mech, Prowl nodded. "Very well, then. One night, I believe. Next orn, I will find a place of my own to stay. I do not like to impose."

"No trouble 't all, mech."


End file.
